


We are both showing hearts

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Simmorse, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, LLF Comment Project, Season/Series 02, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 15:10:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13813779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: After the Inhuman War ends, Daisy arranges for her and Trip to have some time off together.





	We are both showing hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinceresapphire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinceresapphire/gifts).



> This was written for @ladysuperheros/@sinceresapphire for the @aosficnet2 Exchange! The prompt was: "The couple takes some time off to go on a romantic vacation somewhere." Sorry this took me so long, it was harder than expected and also it is my first time writing TripDaisy, so I'm a little nervous!
> 
> **  
> This happens in a canon divergence universe where Trip didn’t die during S2, and also where things ended badly with the Inhumans and Jiaying, but not as badly as in canon.

It’s been difficult to catch  a minute alone with Simmons after Bobbi’s-, well, after  _ everything. _

That’s why Daisy decides to tackle her in the lab with a cup of tea for Simmons and one of hot cocoa for herself; yes, she is using the tea as a bribe, and yes, she is taking advantage of the late hour, when Bobbi will probably be asleep. A girl needs to do what a girl needs to do.

“Hey, Simmons. Long time no see.”

There is deep, dark bags under her eyes, and they make something inside Daisy’s stomach turn, but the smile Jemma sends her way is genuine enough.

“Sk-! I mean, Daisy. Sorry.”

She blushes at the mishap, and after putting both mugs on the lab counter, Daisy gives her hand a light pat to ease the awkwardness.

“It’s cool, we’re are all getting used to it. Don’t worry too much about it.”

Simmons nods, tight, and it hurts her to see her friend stretched this thin, but that is exactly why she is here asking for advice: she doesn’t want her own future to look like this. 

“I know that we are on the middle of something right now-”

Jemma scoffs. 

“When aren’t we on the middle of something?”

"Right. Anyway, I was wondering if you could give me some advice. Some, um, romantic advice.”

She has been trying to act composed so far; they are both adults and this is not a big deal, but she can’t help blushing when Simmons _ oohs  _ at her.  

“Yes, of course.” Her eyes are shining, and she taps the seat right next to hers for Daisy to take. “Now you can’t get out of telling me, but I will warn you that I’m probably not your best option when it comes to romantic knowledge.”

There is no helping the smile that brings out.

“I beg to differ.” And to add emphasis to her point she nods toward the necklace that Jemma is wearing.

“Ah! This is, well, this, you see, it helps Bobbi when, um-”

Daisy raises a hand to put her out of her misery.

“You’ll tell me when you are ready, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” Jemma places a strand of hair behind her ear and averts her eyes; Daisy wonders how many telltales Bobbi would be able to find on her right now. “It’s just, um, very new.”

“And I’m very happy for you.”

Daisy places a hand over her knee, and Jemma puts her own on top, and squeezes it.

“But we are not here to talk about me and, um, Bobbi. You are here to talk about Trip!”

“Trip, right.” Daisy straightens her spine in a move she learned from May; if you want to feel confident, first you need to look confident. “Things have been… tentative between us, you know that. Fair enough, there has been a lot going on.” Jemma nods, and Daisy is just glad she doesn’t need to be more specific. “But I was thinking that maybe we deserve, you know, some time off. I can even make Coulson believe that is so I can finally train somewhere without anyone wanting to drain my vital energy or something.”

Jemma is smiling even through Daisy’s messy speech.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea. Why are you hesitant about this? Do you think Coulson won’t give you permission? Or are you afraid that someone might find you two?” 

“Um, no, actually, it’s none of those. I’m mostly worried that Trip won’t like it, or, or that he will think this is moving too fast, or, or-”

“Daisy.” She takes a deep breath, focuses on Jemma’s honest eyes to  regain her calm. “I’m sure he will love it. And everything, you will sort it out. Together.”

“Yeah.” Simmons is right, there is no point in freaking out about this so much. She just needs to be upfront and ask him. “Yeah, together.”

* * *

 

Of course, Simmons was right, and she shouldn’t have worried about his reaction, because the first one was to squeeze her in his arms, pick her up and take her for a spin.

It takes three full spins and two playful blows on his chest for him to take her down, looking sheepish. 

“Um, of course, of course I would like to go on a vacation with you, Daisy.” He is trying to sound serious and not over enthusiastic, but his eyes are shining, and the smile is spilling all over his mouth. 

She goes to her tiptoes and kisses him, licks his smile into her mouth, swallows it down and lets it fill her lungs with joy. This is exactly the reason why they are doing this. 

“Someone needs some time off, it seems.”

“You don’t even know.” He is looking down at her with adoring eyes, and her heart speeds up in her chest. “I mean, do you know how many years it has been since I had as much as twenty-four hours off nonstop?” He is playing it nonchalant, and one corner of Daisy’s mouth ticks up; they both do this, not play down what they have, but maybe play it cool. It has become some sort of game, and she wonders sometimes who will be the first one to break the facade. “And a holiday with you, girl? That is something I definitely never had.” 

He is stroking her cheek with her thumb, and the tenderness in his eyes is too much, she needs to break contact and she turns away so he can’t see the wah her chest is rising uselessly because he turned her incapable of drawing air.

* * *

 

She waits for the next morning to get on the questioning again; she wants him mellow and distracted, and no better moment for it that early morning, when she is putting on her clothes to make a stop by her own bunk before training.

“So, do you know where do you wanna go?”

Trip kisses her shoulder softly and strokes her side with his hand before replying.

“Wherever you want is fine by me.”

It is, of course, the answer she was expecting, but it’s not the one she wants. 

“What about this?” And she stands up and straightens out her tank top, like what she is saying is something thought on the spur of the moment and not something deliberately planned. “I make sure that we get the free pass card, and you take care of the destination.” She turns around, smiling, and he knows exactly what she is doing, but he can’t refuse because fair is fair. “Deal?”

He smiles back at her, the blankets pooling at his lap, and she really really wants to go back to the bed with him, but she really, really has a lot of things to do if she wants to deliver on what she just promised.

“Deal.”

 

* * *

He does not disappoint; when she comes back after the work of the day, he is waiting for her with two packed bags, and tells her that they can go out in the morning, or she can sleep while they fly if she prefers. 

Her legs are actually refusing to carry her around, but the half-joke that they should leave before Coulson takes back his authorization has an edge of truth. She asks for five minutes to throw on a bag a couple changes of clothes and deliver two kisses to Jemma and Bobbi, and she meets him on the hangar.

She stops, just out of the base, to look at him; his face is turned away, listening to something probably May is saying from inside a plane; he is wearing civilian clothes, and he is attractive, conventionally attractive, all lean muscle and straight lines, but it’s only when he turns around, looks at her and smiles that freaking big smile of his that Daisy’s heart flutters inside her chest.

Maybe it took them various detours, maybe nothing is what she thought it would be when she first sort of joined S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe he is not the man she thought would be by her side; but he is who she wants and he is everything she deserves, and life has fucked them over in a lot of small ways and big ways too; she is going to take this happiness and make it hers.

“You ready, girl?”

She goes to him and places her hand exactly where it belongs: right alongside his. 

“Always.”

May rushes them from inside the plane, and they both go inside and secure themselves. She doesn’t ask where they are going; she knows him enough to imagine his smile and his _ ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies. _ She is on the verge of asking anyway just to actually _ see  _ his smile, but she falls asleep on his shoulder before she can carry it through.

The next time she wakes up, her head still heavy and foggy with sleep, Trip is carrying her and both their bags effortlessly, it’s completely dark and she can hear the sounds of the plane but from far away, and she wants to ask him where they are, but her mouth is not awake enough yet, and he shushes her and tightens his hold on her. The movement lulls her back to sleep in barely no time.    

* * *

 

Being woken up by the slight warm of the sunlight on her skin is something she hadn’t experienced in almost two years, and when she first wakes up, she can not shake fast enough the feeling that this must be a dream.

Especially considering the added bonus of smelling coffee and toast.

She gets up from the soft bed and stretches her arms before surveying the room; it is a small room with all the furniture made of wood, obviously equipped for eventual use and not permanent. Daisy peers a little out the windows and sees a big body of water, probably a lake, maybe just a hundred feet away, water strikingly blue. 

She puts on her pajamas just to pretend there is an ounce of modesty in her and lets the smell take her, barefoot and bedheaded, to the kitchen. Trip is turned back when she finds him, busy with coffee preparation. He is wearing grey sweatpants and a well worn white t-shirt, that looks very soft, as pajamas. She sneaks behind him and wraps her hands around his abdomen, feeling his warmth seep through both their shirts to her body. Daisy lays her head on his back, hearing the beat of his heart, and closes her eyes.

She would like to make a comment about how she hit the jackpot or something, but she is too scared that something so big would scare him, and she keeps it to herself.

“I was starting to get worried,” he teases, and Daisy nuzzles her nose against his back. Yeah, his t-shirt is as soft as she imagined. “I didn’t know it was humanly possible to wake up after 9 am.”

“It very well is. But don’t tell May, or she will try to get me to make up for it by waking up at 4 am for a month or something.”

He laughs, and she feels the sound reverberating on his ribcage, trapped between her hands and her head.

“Don’t worry, it will be our little secret, baby.”

His voice is so full of tenderness that she feels the need to absorb him inside her body, there are no other way to have him as close as she would like to have him. But sentimentality  is his thing, so instead of saying anything, she pinches his butt, making him yelp.

“Less chessiness, more feeding me, mister.”

“Yes ma’am.”    

* * *

 

It has been a while since she has felt so in peace as she is now, the water lapping languidly at her feet while she plays with making a lone leaf that is floating on the surface of the water go one way or the other. 

She can understand why a Howling Commando would choose this place as his safe place, as a very small part on Earth where one can be sheltered from the world and don’t have to worry about everything turning into shambles at any given moment. 

Daisy cannot help thinking about, and mostly feeling, the striking difference between this cabin and the one she was sent to when her powers had come to the light; that one meant to keep her in, this one meant to keep everyone else outside.

Well, everyone but Trip. 

She turns her head to look at him, sitting under  a tree, very focused on his book, and even though she has tried not to, she has been unable to shake this little voice in the back of her mind that tells her that maybe the world or at least the base is on fire while they are just here doing nothing about it, but right now, feet wet and sun on her soul, utter peacefulness on Trip’s face, she truly couldn’t care less.

* * *

Dinner is an irreparable disaster.

She wanted to give him- who is sharing this so very important part of him, and his family and his past with her- something in return, not as much as a trade, more like as a thank you, as a _ I see what you are doing for and with me, and I appreciate it. _

And she had wanted to not be tacky and not go the sex route, and she searched online for some suggestions, and everyone agrees that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?

Except that she has forgotten that she cannot cook. At all.

Okay, it’s not like she has forgotten, exactly. More like it has seemed oh, so simple on her screen, and she has underestimated her abilities to screw things up.

That’s how they find themselves trying to desperately put out a small fire in that cabin made  entirely of wood. Daisy would feel ashamed of the entire situation, but once they have the situation under control, she barely has time to pull the sweaty hair apart from her eyes before he squeezes her hard in his arms, laughing. 

She bables something, trying to get him to tell her what is going on, but he only squeezes her harder, so she just enjoys the moment.  

* * *

They end up dining something he puts together with what little groceries remained unharmed by her hand, and Daisy would be envious of how much he can do with so little, but she can’t when she is reaping on the results, can she?

While she sits on the counter, Trip tells her softly about how his mom, raised by her war-soldier-father, taught him how to always make do with as little as possible, because there might come a time when that little would be as much as one gets. There is a shadow passing between them for a moment, because it’s almost palpable the undeniable fact that for long times on her life, Daisy had that little, and she didn’t have a mother to teach her how to deal with that.  

She can read the pain on his face, always so open, and draws him closer with her feet wrapped around his knees. She  kisses him softly, both her whole hands on his cheeks, until she can feel a rattling sight leaving his chest and then she whispers against his lips that she loves hearing stories about his childhood and his mom.

_ I might not had that, but I want to have yours, if you want to share it with me. _

He ends up telling her so many stories and jokes about his brothers, and his enabling grandparents, and his poor suffering mom that at the end of it she can barely remember what they ate.  

* * *

The cabin is amazing and everything, but its technology hasn’t been updated in… quite a while.

Daisy is grateful for that, as she is grateful for having come without her laptop; she wants the privacy and the intimacy of this time together without it being tinted with work. 

She couldn’t help bringing her phone, though, but right now the only use she had had for it is use it to play some music while they had dinner. She is washing the dishes when the list it had been playing ends, and a rather  [ slow piano song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwsYvBYZcx4) starts playing.  

“Hey, Trip, could you maybe skip this song?”

“Nope.” 

He pops the “p” and she startles because she hadn’t noticed that he were so close. Trip turns off the faucet and wraps his arms around her waist to make both of them start swinging to the rhythm. She puts up a small fight, but he doesn't yield, and well, it’s rather nice to be pressed against his chest while he hums against her hair. She can survive one slow song.

“You are such a sap, Triplett.” She means for the comment to be playful, especially since it goes with a soft blow to the chest, but the look on his intense eyes and that winning smile of his kind of make the gesture die early on her.   

“Maybe.” His voice is soft and deep, and she shivers. “Maybe I am, but it’s your fault, because I can not help it with you.”

* * *

The view is simply stunning.

And yes, she is talking about the lake seen from uphill. But mostly, she is talking about Trip. 

He has his eyes closed, the wind drying up the sweat on his face, and his skin is almost glowing with the sun. He looks happy and at peace, and Daisy would like to take this moment, this view, this sensation, and treasure them for the rest of her life close to her chest.

She hesitates about taking his hand, mostly because she doesn’t wanna disturb the perfection of the moment, and it’s pleasantly surprised when he is the one who takes hers.

“What are you thinking, girl?” 

She breathes in and breathes out, and the pure air makes her lungs feel infinite.

“Do you want to move in with me?”

It’s not, exactly, what she wants to say. She wants to say that she’d like them to have this, this peaceful potential, for the rest of their lives, that she can not imagine a better partner to traverse this messy life by her side.

Instead, what she has to offer is a too-small room and a shared bathroom sink and the chance to show him off to everyone on base. It’s what they have, and they will have to make do with it.

He is looking down at her with the sun shining in his eyes, and it makes her feel like she offered him what she wanted to instead of what she did. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”  

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * This author replies to comments.
> 



End file.
